Gifts
by Yami no Ryu
Summary: It's the first Christmas after Jack joined the Guardians, and Bunny has a present for him.
1. melt in your mouth

It was ridiculous. The boy was bound to get something from Nick tomorrow, something fantastic to mark the Christmas he became a Guardian. (They all got gifts from Nick at Christmas. Usually, Bunnymund got some sort of stuffed rabbit dressed in Christmas clothes. Nick had a very poor sense of humor.) Jack didn't need whatever silly little thing Bunny could come up with.

Which didn't stop Bunny from holding a holding a small package in his paws, waiting for Jack to meet him on December 24th. He'd chosen a neutral spot, cold enough for Jack to be comfortable but not snowed over. They'd been getting along much better since the winter spirit became a Guardian—Bunny would even say, if pressed, that they were friends—but for something like this Bunny wanted a level playing field.

He felt the gust of cold wind before he saw Jack. The spirit landed with his typical easy grace, grinning and setting his staff against his shoulder. "What's up, Buttercup?"

"Good onya," Bunny answered dryly. "How long'd it take ya to think that up?"

Jack laughed. "What's so important you couldn't wait to tell me tomorrow?"

Tomorrow and North's Christmas party for the Guardians. Now Bunny fidgeted, and adjusted his bandolier so it wouldn't look like he was fidgeting. It was rare for the Pooka to feel so unsure—unsure enough to give Jack his present early, when nobody else could see the boy's reaction. After a moment, exasperated with himself, he thrust the small gift at Jack. "Merry Christmas, mate."

Jack's eyebrows shot up, and his blue eyes widened. "For me?"

Bunny rolled his eyes. "Of course for you, ya dill."

Jack still didn't take the brightly-wrapped box, content, it seemed, to stare at it. He looked as if he'd never seen a present before, which was ridiculous. Impatiently, Bunny grabbed Jack's free hand and deposited the gift into it. The boy's hand closed instinctively.

For a moment, Jack stood frozen. Then he settled his staff more securely in the crook of his arm and investigated the present more thoroughly. He ran his fingers over the neat corners and rubbed his thumb over the rough edge of a piece of tape. He brought it to eye level and inspected the blue and white and silver snowflake pattern very seriously, a grin lurking in the upturned corners of his mouth. (It was ridiculous wrapping paper, but what could Bunny do with Nick twinkling knowingly at him and slapping his belly like he did. Bunny wouldn't be asking Nick for more paper any time soon.) He mapped out the precise dimensions of the box with hands and eyes, then brought it up to his ear to shake it. Of course he didn't hear anything. Bunny was a better packer than that.

Nearly vibrating with tension, Bunny said, "Just open it already, wouldja?" He muttered under his breath, "Put me outta my misery."

Jack looked at Bunny, startled, as though he'd forgotten the Pooka was there. "I—thanks, Bunny."

"You don't even know what it is," Bunny said with a scowl.

"Yeah, but you got me something for Christmas," Jack said. "You hate Christmas—"

"I do not!"

"And you got me a _Christmas present_. You got _me_ a _present_," Jack breathed, awed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bunny huffed. "We're friends, right? That's what friends do."

"Nobody's ever gotten me a present before," Jack admitted quietly.

The admission stopped Bunny before he could work up a good head of steam. That couldn't be right. Hadn't the boy said he was over three _hundred_ years old? And he'd _never_ gotten a present before? Bunny didn't even know what to say, but he felt compelled to say _something_ to address that. "Jack—"

But Jack bent his head and with meticulous care picked off the pieces of tape on the bottom and sides of the box, preserving the wrapping as much as possible. Bunnymund subsided as Jack inspected the box inside the paper as thoroughly as he had the wrapped gift before. The box was a light-colored wood with brass hinges on one side and a simple clasp on the other, about six inches by four inches. There was a single snowflake carved into the lid. Jack opened the clasp.

"You got me chocolates?" Jack asked, his tone bemused. "I mean, thanks, but—"

"You're always complaining that you're too cold and chocolate doesn't melt right in your mouth," Bunny interrupted. "These will." He added anxiously, "They should. Didn't exactly have a test subject handy."

Eyes lighting up, Jack took out one of the small round chocolates and popped it in his mouth. And then his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned. Bunny's ears twitched and he was very thankful he didn't blush like humans did—he didn't think he'd ever heard anyone enjoy chocolate quite that much.

"Oh my god, that's good," Jack murmured, voice an octave lower than normal. His eyes opened to half-mast. "How?"

"Then it does melt right?" Bunny confirmed. Jack answered with a lazy 'mm-hm.' Satisfied, Bunny crossed his arms and smirked. "Easter magic, mate. Can't beat it."

And by the answering smile spreading across Jack's lips, for once he couldn't disagree.


	2. not all presents are tangible

It was December 25th at Santoff Clausen, and for the first time in decades all the Guardians were gathered in one place for Christmas. Previously, Nick had sent presents to their homes (or waited for the gift to be picked up, in Sandy's case). With a new Guardian, however, and such a young, social one as Jack, Nick had decided to host a small Christmas party and asked (read: strong-armed) everyone to come.

Each Guardian had their own small tree, placed equidistant around an impossibly large and gaudy Christmas tree in the center of the room. Jack's tree was decked out in blue and silver, with the expected snowflakes and blown-glass icicles, but there were some strange ornaments (like skiing ice cubes and faux-marshmallow snowmen) scattered here and there.

Bunny watched Jack stare at the presents underneath his personal tree. Like yesterday, he seemed not to know what to do with them at first, until Nick strode in and slapped him on the back, bellowing, "Merry Christmas, Jack! Hope you like presents!"

Hot chocolate was passed around, and the Guardians naturally congregated around Jack's tree, schlepping their presents over before settling in to open them.

Bunny thanked each of the Guardians for their presents (another stuffed rabbit dressed like a Christmas elf from Nick, the wanker), but Bunny was much less interested in his own gifts than in watching Jack open his.

He went through the same ritual with each: he traced the dimensions with both eyes and fingers, outlining the folds in the paper and the scraps of tape holding it all together. He inspected the wrapping paper thoroughly, no matter how eye-wateringly clashing it was. (Where had Nick found some of these patterns? They were _awful._) Only when he had scrutinized every centimeter would he carefully peel the tape off, fold the wrapping paper neatly and coil the ribbons, and exclaim with delight over whatever was inside.

Bunny knew by his reactions that Jack really had never gotten a present before Bunny's yesterday. Bunny frowned; it brought home just how alone the sprite had been.

Well. No way to change the past. All Bunny could do now was make sure that he wouldn't be alone now.

And maybe get him a few just-because presents. After all, gifts weren't limited to Christmas.

* * *

Bunny knocked on the door and entered at Jack's absent, "Yeah?" He stood in the doorway observing for a moment. Jack had his back to Bunny, arranging his new Christmas presents on a shelf, wearing the brand-new blue hoodie that Tooth had gifted him. The new matryoshka shells from Nick were arranged in something of a semi-circle with the smallest in pride of place. (Nick said he gave it to Jack right after he was inducted into the Guardians.) Next to it was Sandy's little stone statue, glittering golden with dreamsand. There were a few other knickknacks, a few things which looked old and worn, most much newer. On the night-table next to the bed was Bunny's little chocolate box, unlatched but closed, sharing space with some books likely from North's library. On the floor in front of the bed was a shaggy ragrug, made from the knotted ends of fabrics, and gifted to Jack by a gruffly affectionate Phil the yeti. Bunny even spotted the blue pointed shoes Nick's elves had made for Jack before Easter, which the pests were insistent Jack wear.

It no longer looked like a guest room.

"Hey, Frostbite," Bunny greeted, drawing the frost sprite's attention.

Jack grinned. "Hey, kangaroo. What's up?"

"Not a kangaroo," Bunny shot back automatically. The reflexive retort made Jack smirk. "Enjoy your Christmas?"

"I didn't expect so many presents!" Jack enthused. Bunny hid a smile; he could be such a kid sometimes.

"Y'gonna keep 'em all here?" Bunny asked. It was an idle question, but Jack's grin dropped a bit and he shrugged.

"Where else would I keep them?"

"Your place," Bunny said.

Jack gestured around the room. "This is my place."

"Don't ya have a home?" Bunny asked, that half-horrified, half-guilty feeling rising as it had yesterday. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he cringed. Very tactful, mate, he thought sarcastically.

For a minute Jack shut down, face blank and eyes like chips of ice. Then an easy smile stretched his lips, and he leaned insouciantly against his staff. But his eyes were still cold. "Why would I need one? Bringing winter's a full-time job, kangaroo, and I cover a lot of distance. I need to be mobile. Besides, can you imagine me playing house?" Jack laughed, but it was strained. Bunny wondered how many times Jack had watched humans 'playing house' and wanted to join in. "Naw, I'm a nomad, and it's better that way."

It had the ring of a desperate self-justification. Bunny frowned. Obviously the winter sprite wasn't telling the whole truth, not with this room as evidence.

Nick had given the boy a room almost immediately, but Bunny hadn't thought anything of it. All the Guardians had rooms at Nick's, though they rarely ever used them. It struck Bunny that he hadn't seen Jack in the Warren since this year's disastrous Easter. And Bunny had never invited him back, either. Well, time to rectify that.

"Well, 'f ya ever need to touch base between your wanderings, ya know you can come to the Warren."

The offer clearly put Jack off-balance, as his nonchalant mask slipped. "Really? Even after everything?"

Bunny shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal (as if this wasn't the first time he'd given someone permission to drop by anytime). Then he pinned Jack with a stern look. "Just don' go freezin' the flowers, an' she'll be apples."

"What?" Jack blinked.

Ah, right, Aussie slang. "You'll be fine," Bunny clarified. He'd clear out a room for Jack, get a bed and a wardrobe. Maybe make him some welcome-to-the-burrow chocolates. Bunny thought some company might be nice, even if it was only sporadic company. "Come 'round any time."

Jack stood, still supported by his staff. His eyes were wide with surprise, his knuckles white around his staff. He swallowed. "Oh." He gave Bunny a tentative grin, which Bunny returned wholeheartedly.

Then, with no more warning than that, he had an armful of cool winter sprite. Jack's arms were wiry but strong around his chest, the boy's breaths against his collarbone filtering paradoxically warm through his fur. Bunny allowed himself a moment of shock, and then he hugged back.

Softly, Bunny addressed the elephant in the room. "You're not alone anymore."

Jack breathed, "Thank you."


End file.
